


The Daily Grind

by moolktea



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, DNA (destroy nero's ass), M/M, Office Sex, Overstimulation, Pining, belly bulge, nero propaganda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19768129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moolktea/pseuds/moolktea
Summary: Dante doesn't want to do his paperwork. Nero provides some helpful motivation.





	The Daily Grind

**Author's Note:**

> this is a LATE birthday fic for @theburningking on twitter, HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY u magnificent being pls take this humble offering

"I hate Vergil,” Dante groans, his voice muffled by the stack of paperwork he’s currently buried underneath. 

A quick glance at his phone tells him that it’s nearly ten, meaning that he’s been at the office for about twelve hours now, cowed into submission by the steely glint in his brother’s eyes when he’d coerced Dante into working overtime. He rubs blearily at his eyes and tries unsuccessfully to stifle his yawn, his hand groping blindly at his desk for his cup of coffee.

“This is  _ your  _ fault, you know.”

Nero, his brother’s secretary and his impromptu babysitter for the night, shoves a paper cup of coffee into Dante’s hand, a completely unsympathetic look on his face as he glares down at Dante. With a disgusted glance at the mound of unfinished work on Dante’s desk, Nero places another file on top of the stack that looks least likely to fall over, nudging it a little closer to Dante’s head.

“Hey, I didn’t do anything!”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the problem, dumbass.”

Dante had to admit, the kid maybe had a point. His father’s company was due for another financial evaluation next week, and Vergil, the one in charge of getting this stuff together as head of the department of banking and finance, had been incredibly dismayed and possibly homicidal upon finding out that Dante had not, in fact, kept track of any of his business dealings for the past three years.

In Dante’s defense, he’d tried his best to organize and file the necessary paperwork--he’d just ended up falling asleep somewhere in the middle of the first page.

“We will have to stay overnight in order to catch up on your egregiously lacking paperwork,” Vergil had decreed, in the strained sort of tone that gave away exactly how much self-restraint he was exercising to keep himself from throwing Dante out of one of the ceiling-height windows and gleefully watching him fall ten stories down.

Dante had honestly felt a little bad about the whole thing, upon seeing the size of the bags underneath his brother’s eyes, but before he could say anything, Nero had spoken up, wedging himself in between them as some sort of barrier between Dante and Vergil’s exhausted fury.

“Actually, I think you should go home. You just want to make sure that Dante actually does the shit that he’s responsible for, right? I’ll watch him.”

The concern in Nero’s eyes as he’d looked over his brother was not lost upon either of them, and Vergil, who had more than a little bit of a soft spot for the kid ever since hiring him a few months back, had patted the kid on the head and agreed.

While Dante was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to just bullshit his way through the rest of the work, he can’t say that the arrangement has worked out too badly for him, actually.

Over the months that Nero’s been working for Vergil, Dante’s developed something that people might call an “obsession” with the kid. In accordance with the rest of his image, Dante prefers to refer to it as a “vague and distant interest,” but the fact is that Nero is, by far, the prettiest secretary they’ve ever had in this office and has an adorably feisty personality to boot. 

Dante can’t lie to himself--for the longest while, he’d tried to pretend that he’d only wanted to get into Nero’s incredibly tight pants, lately he’s been having some decidedly uncharacteristic thoughts about having Nero in his bed, in the completely non-sexual, cuddly way. It wasn’t his fault that the kid looked soft and huggable in all the right places, and Nero’s flustered reactions whenever he got an ounce of physical affection from anybody was a gift that Dante couldn’t let go unopened. 

Unfortunately, a rather large obstacle currently stands in the way between him and his Nero-cuddling fantasies, because his feelings are quite obviously unrequited. 

Not that Dante’s actually tried to confess or show his feelings for Nero in any way--only losers like Vergil got invested in sappy romantic shit like this. 

But the kid is always glaring at him, one way or the other, and gets particularly snippy whenever he’s around Dante, never failing to pick out a new insult or snarky comment of Dante’s state of being, which Dante can never help but return, eventually devolving their conversations into rampant bickering. 

Dante isn’t an idiot, he can read the signs--he’s definitely Nero’s least favorite person in the office and possibly the entire world, so his dreams of asking Nero out on a date and getting to hold his adorably small hand in his own are about as dead as his work ethic.

Doesn’t stop him from entertaining the thought, though.

It really isn’t like him to get hung up over a person like this. Before he’d met Nero, he’d had a sort of bad habit of “being an ethically and morally compromised complete and utter manslut,” as Lady had gently put it. He never slept with the same person twice, and had never felt the urge to, no matter how good the sex ended up being--attachment just wasn’t his thing, no matter how many one-night stands came crying to him in hopes of starting up a relationship.

So maybe Nero was some form of divine karma, placed strategically in front of him by the cruel hands of fate in order to make both his dick and his heart suffer.

“Hey, what the fuck?” 

Dante blinks back into awareness, interrupted from his musings by Nero, who is snapping those slender fingers of his in front of Dante’s face, glaring firmly at him from behind the wide frame of his glasses. Nero’s face is unusually close to his, and Dante can count almost every one of his long and snowy eyelashes.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep on me, grandpa. I know you didn’t get your usual old-person afternoon nap, but you still have a job to do.” 

Right. Paperwork.

Dante rubs at his temples with a sigh, glancing at the coffee still in his hand and determines it to be appropriately lukewarm enough for him to down it in one go. Then he properly straightened up, trying to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes, studying the size of the piles on his desk properly.

“So...what do we have left?” He questions, in more or less of a surface-level attempt to display his commitment to the task ahead of him.

Nero gives him an incredulous sort of look.

“Dante, you haven’t started yet.”

“What? We’ve been here for like, four hours. Where did the time go?”

He doesn’t expect an actual answer to his question, but, in response, Nero flips back a couple of pages in his notebook, his eyes flicking over whatever’s on the page in front of him.

“Well, let’s see. From six to eight, you proclaimed that you needed to eat dinner before you could begin, proceeded to spend twenty minutes listing out pizza toppings over to the phone, then repeated them, but in  _ Italian,  _ which I didn’t even know you spoke. During the rest of this time gap, you ate your entire pizza in less than ten minutes and spent the rest of your ‘hour-long’ break eating that strawberry cake Trish put in the fridge. You know, the one with the gigantic ‘Dante, do not touch sign?”

Now that Nero mentions it, Dante does vaguely recall seeing a sign like that, along with multiple post-it notes that he’d peeled off and tossed somewhere off to the side before consuming the entire cake.

“Did I really take an hour to eat cake?”

“You picked off and ate each sprinkle individually, with chopsticks.”

“That’s Vergil’s fault, actually. It’s his week to cook at home, so we’ve been eating instant noodles for seven days straight, and Vergil gets all pissy and elitist if you use a fork on this stuff. Something about not respecting his ‘authentic’ culture or whatever.”

The statement actually seems to give Nero pause, as he looks up and tilts his head at Dante, staring at him hard.

“How are either of you  _ alive?” _

Dante shrugs lazily, and Nero makes a noise of semi-horrified disgust before continuing with his itinerary.

“After your little feast, you then stole Vergil’s limited edition cat-themed notepad from his locked desk drawer where he keeps his things that he thinks no one knows about and then drew unflattering depictions of him all over it.” 

“Pretty proud of those myself, actually.”

Nero excavates said cat-themed notepad out from underneath a paper pile, tears off the first sheet—pink, with the watermark of cartoon tabby on it—and flicks it at Dante’s face.

“Here, keep it. And pray that Vergil doesn’t notice that ‘Alexa’ the tabby cat has suddenly transformed into a…” Nero frowns down at the notepad, trying to peer more closely at whatever new cat was on the next sheet of paper. 

“...Lucifurr.”

Nero looks as if he’s three seconds away from contemplating about looking for a new job, so Dante decides to spare the poor kid from further suffering. He runs his hand through his messy hair, pushes his doodles Vergil off to the side, and attempts to straighten up.

“Yeah, yeah, point taken. I’ve wasted a bunch of time. But I mean, seriously—just  _ look  _ at how much shit there is over here.”

The kid glances at it again at Dante’s indication, then pushes up his glasses and folds his arms.

“Okay, so it’s like three years of work. You can do it in like, what, an hour? Two, tops.”

Dante chuckles nervously, but a quick look at the serious expression on Nero’s face tells Dante that the kid isn’t joking.

“Uh, yeah, real cute, kid, but I think maybe you’re not getting what all of this entails. I mean, there’s a  _ lot  _ of stuff. I have to use  _ numbers  _ and everything, and dig up all my past deals.”

Nero sighs aloud for a long minute, removing his glasses and folding them up carefully to place them on Dante’s desk, presumably so he can rub at his face in exasperation, his fingers combing through his too-long bangs.

“You really think Vergil would have expected you to do it all in one night if it really took that long for you? You’re actually competent, Dante. You just won’t do it because you’re lazy and an asshole and a lazy asshole. Why do you think your father even hired you in the first place?”

“Uh, blatant nepotism?”

The flat look he receives in response indicates that that wasn’t quite the answer that Nero had been searching for.

“Do your work.”

Dante heaves a greatly exaggerated sigh, plucking a binder off of the highest stack on the table and flipping it open with a pained noise of effort, somehow summoning the urge to actually pick up his pen in his hand. Nero seems reassured by this, and moves some of the items on top of Dante’s desk to make space for himself, sitting on the edge of the surface and pulling out his phone.

Unfortunately, the sight of Nero’s thigh so close to his general vicinity is a bigger distraction than any of his other previous activities combined, and Dante often finds his attention drifting away from the single line he’s been rereading for the past thirty minutes to glance over at Nero. The kid isn’t paying him any more attention, firing off some texts to his friends and occasionally, scribbling something down on his notebook--probably filling out his babysitting log for Vergil.

Without a watchful eye to supervise him, Dante finds his will to work being rapidly drained, and it isn’t long before his face nearly collides with the polished surface of his desk again as he finds himself being put to sleep by the hypnotic power of paperwork.

“Are you  _ serious?” _

He distantly hears Nero’s voice through the haze of semi-consciousness, and he smiles into his desk, tilting his head further into his papers and shutting his eyes. Nero’s sigh of deep exasperation flutters over him, and, with his face in his desk, Dante remains blissfully unaware of the way that Nero reaches for him until he feels the kid’s fingers curling the back of his shirt.

Nero pulls him roughly upwards, pushing him back into his chair and sliding off of the desk, a truly irritated look on his face. He slips his phone back into his pocket, his fingers reaching up to tug at his scarf, properly pulling it off.

“Okay. So I get that you aren’t going to do this on your own. An asshole like you needs an actual incentive.”

Dante, unsure of what the kid is planning, leans further back and folds his hands behind his head, smirking at him.

“What, you gonna bribe me or something? Dangle pizza and ice cream in front of my face like bait? I’ll give you credit for trying to get creative, but that’s not going to--”

Nero abruptly drops himself into Dante’s lap, curls his fingers into the front of Dante’s button-up shirt, and kisses him.

Oh.

The kid, despite what his fluffy and innocent appearance would seem to suggest, is an amazingly good kisser, his lips soft in all the right ways, and he tastes a little like vanilla and what could maybe be marshmallows. Dante’s well-versed in the art of making out himself, but he’s so thoroughly floored by the move that it takes him a good three or four seconds of unresponsiveness before he snaps back to attention, properly tangling his fingers in Nero’s soft hair and taking control of the kiss.

He can feel Nero’s thin fingers pressing up against his face, tracing the curve of his jaw gently and sliding downwards, brushing against his arms and chest, and when Nero pulls away, his cheeks flushed and his breath coming in shallow pants, he sees the way Nero’s eyes flicker over his body, clearly checking him out. 

“Now  _ this  _ is a much better plan,” Dante grins, running his large hands down Nero’s sides, his hands settling lightly enough over Nero’s waist that the kid can break free if he wants. 

“Is this why you wanted to stay behind instead of Vergil?”

Nero shrugs, licking idly at his lips in a way that makes Dante impossibly aroused. 

“Something like that. Also because I thought you two might kill each other. Or that Vergil might faint--he’s been pretty tired lately.”

Nero’s gesture, while ultimately self-serving, was apparently laden with good intentions, so Dante thinks better of telling the kid that Vergil’s recent fatigue is almost entirely due to his annual rewatching of the entire Sailor Sun series, or whatever the name of his show was. Instead, he chooses to appreciate this for the god-given opportunity that it is, shifting with Nero on his lap and deciding to figure out exactly how far Nero wanted to go here.

“So, look, I’m not gonna lie and say I haven’t been thinking about this for a pretty long time, but...one, I didn’t think you were that into me. And two, this is a hell of a time to make your move.”

Nero ducks his head, the embarrassment plain on his face, but he doesn’t seem eager to take back his actions or excuse himself, his fingers instinctively reaching for the absent scarf normally around his neck in his usual nervous gesture that Dante has spent entirely too much time observing.

“I thought I made it obvious,” Nero mumbles out, his blush deepening as he avoids making direct eye contact with Dante.

“As for the timing…well, when we do this is up to you, isn’t it?”

Dante feels a little like he’s missing something here, his head tilting in confusion, only to be cut off when Nero grinds suddenly against his lap, the curve of his ass brushing against Dante’s rapidly hardening dick. He instinctively tightens his grip on Nero’s hips, the air leaving him in a sharp hiss through his clenched teeth.

“Shit, kid--you sure are impatient, huh?” Dante starts, as if Nero and his ass haven’t been the prime subjects of nearly all of his wet dreams for the past six months or so. He slides his hand downward, unable to resist the temptation to grab a handful of Nero’s ass, his other hand moving to slip just underneath the waistband of his pants.

He feels Nero grab his wrist then, and his heart stutters, unsure if he’s overstepped a boundary or drastically fucked things up. His dread, though, is mitigated by the shy little smile that Nero gives him, which suddenly turns more than a little evil, as the boy slides off of his lap in a smooth motion, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Yeah, I am--impatient for you to finish up with all of that,” he motions with his head towards the pile of papers around them, and Dante registers Nero’s meaning with a sinking sort of feeling in his stomach.

“So let me know when you’re done, and then we take care of this problem.”

“Nero, wait--” Dante tries desperately, but Nero is already stalking off in the other direction.

“I have to go return, ah... _ Lucifurr _ to his rightful place. You know, inside of Vergil’s desk.”

Vergil’s office is on the eighth floor, two beneath Dante, which means that Nero and his ass will be located quite far away from Dante. The kid holds up the notepad as he walks away, and Dante barely has the time to catch a last, fleeting glimpse of him before Nero disappears behind the elevator doors, leaving Dante with the most unsatisfying boner he’s had in a long, long time and entirely too much work.

Dante groans, rubbing his face with a hand before eyeing the papers in front of him with great dislike. 

“Just you and me, then.”

Nero’s little incentive, as cruel as Dante still considers it, is undoubtedly effective, because Dante’s never worked more quickly in his entire life. 

The paperwork becomes astonishingly easy to breeze through, now that Dante actually has a goal in mind. Thanks to his above-average memory, it takes him only a cursory glance at each page to properly take in all the information on it, and once he’s done reading the details, it's only a matter of doing some quick mental calculations before signing his name at the bottom.

In fact, the only problem currently standing between him and getting inside of Nero’s undoubtedly tight ass is the sheer volume of work to be done, and Dante finds himself silently cursing the Dante of the past for putting this shit off for all this time.

“We’d be having a whole lot of fun right now, if it weren’t for you,” Dante mutters to himself as he scrawls out his signature onto another document. Talking to himself is probably an indication of late it actually is, and a glance at his phone confirms his suspicions, telling him that it’s past midnight. 

Despite his semi hard-on having thankfully disappeared after Nero had left, Dante is still unfortunately aroused, and he’s honestly considering just grabbing Nero’s scarf off of his desk and maybe jerking off to it when the elevator dings and Nero returns.

The kid looks approvingly at the vastly reduced size of the piles on the desk, then up at Dante’s face, which Dante hopes conveys the appropriate mix of despair and horniness that will encourage Nero to let him off easy.

“No,” Nero says as he walks forward, picking through the remains of Dante’s completed work and checking it over for quality, and Dante is both simultaneously touched that Nero is able to read him so well and crushed at the thought of having to make his dick wait for what could very well be up to half an hour.

“You know, kid, it’s really hard to think like this. Maybe I’ll be more efficient if I had a little pick-me-up, if you know what I mean.”

“If what you mean is that that’s a giant fucking lie, then yes.”

Nero mercilessly shoves the last of the papers closer to Dante before taking up his seat on top of the desk again, a hint of impatience clear in his movements. The kid wants this just as badly as Dante does--he just has marginally more self-control and also probably a whole lot more respect for Vergil to at least make sure that Dante holds up his end of the bargain, first.

Dante’s going to have to push a little harder, then.

“Come on, it’s been like two hours. And I’ve been working the whole time. No idea how it took you so long to put Vergil’s stuff back into his desk, but you’ve done a pretty good job of staying away, yeah? I think it’s time for another break.”

Nero is chewing carefully on his lip, turning his eyes upwards as he seems to mentally calculate the credibility of Dante’s words, of whether or not he can actually complete the rest of his task if Nero gives in right now. From the way the kid fidgets in place, his fingers tugging lightly at his now mostly unbuttoned collar, Dante senses that Nero’s restraint is rapidly thinning.

He leans a little forward, grinning slyly at Nero and wrapping a hand around the boy’s hip.

“If Vergil gets pissed, I’ll take responsibility, I swear.”

He’ll maybe regret those words in the future, but that seems to be enough to fully convince Nero, and the boy slides off of the desk and into his lap again, looking him determinedly in the eye. Bracing himself with one of his hands against Dante’s chest, Nero neatly sweeps the rest of Dante’s papers to the side, leaving the rest of the desk bare.

“You’d fucking better, old man,” Nero snaps in reply, before pressing forward to kiss him again, a little more hunger and lot less control in his movements.

With Nero’s consent fully granted to him, Dante takes the opportunity to freely run his hands along Nero’s body, breaking the kiss to nip his way lightly down the pale skin of Nero’s throat, settling into the crook of Nero’s neck and sucking a dark mark into it. He hears Nero’s breath hitch lightly at the motion, his throat tightening as he swallows harshly, betraying how sensitive the boy actually is.

“This your first time around the block, kid?” Dante asks teasingly, although he’s honestly not entirely sure of the answer. The way that Nero advanced on him certainly wasn’t characteristic of a virgin, but with how shyly the kid seemed to react to any sort of actual sign of affection, Dante doubts that Nero’s ever really been in a stable relationship before. 

Not that he himself really has any room to talk. Dante hasn’t had an actual partner in maybe ten years.

Nero’s pale cheeks flush slightly pink as he averts his eyes, automatically running his hand nervously through his bangs.

“No--I mean, I’ve done this before. ...Once.”

From the looks of it, Nero’s first and so far only time doesn’t seem to have been very memorable or particularly good, which is definitely a shame. Dante’s going to have to fix that, and he has little doubt that he’ll be able to.

“So practically a virgin, then.”

Nero says nothing in response, but ducks his head in clear embarrassment, his grip on Dante’s shoulders tightening slightly, and Dante can’t help his chuckle of amusement, tilting his head down to press a lighter, more affectionate kiss against Nero’s forehead. The boy squirms in his lap at the contact, impatiently starting to tug at Dante’s clothes, helping to remove his outer jacket and throwing it off to the side, leaving Dante in just his dress shirt.

The motion causes Nero’s body to grind up against Dante’s crotch again, pulling another strangled half-laugh, half-groan from Dante as he leans his head back.

“You having fun there, kid?” 

“Can’t help it if I’m curious,” Nero retorts, before looking downwards and wiggling slightly backwards, his hands reaching to deftly unbuckle Dante’s pants, pulling the belt all the way off and unzipping his pants.

Dante rarely ever wears underwear, so his dick is pretty much out in the open the second that Nero actually undoes his pants, and he tries without much success not to feel smug when he sees the way that Nero’s eyes widen, giving away his surprise at Dante’s size. The kid chews nervously on the inside of his cheek for a long moment, his eyes flicking between Dante’s half-hard cock and his face.

“I’m guessing the other guy wasn’t quite like this?” Dante asks smugly, receiving a flustered glare for his efforts.

_ “No one _ is like this! Why is...how did it even get like that?”

“What can I say? I just got born lucky.”

He watches Nero carefully, though, despite his words. With how many sexual encounters Dante’s had in his lifetime, it isn’t exactly a rare occurrence for his potential partners to back out after seeing the size of his dick, or at least to try and demand being on top, if it was another guy. 

From the looks of it, though, while Nero wasn’t expecting Dante to be quite so big, he also doesn’t seem to have any intention of backing down, gently wrapping his hand around it and starting to stroke the shaft of Dante’s cock.

_ “Fuck,” _ Dante manages eloquently, because while most of his fantasies related to Nero’s soft, small hands generally involve holding them, he can’t say that this also isn’t one of his ideal situations. He cups a hand around the back of Nero’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss, stifling his groan into Nero’s mouth and rewarding the kid for his good behavior.

He can’t go and let Nero have all of the fun for himself, though.

Dante’s other hand, still at Nero’s waist, snakes around to slip underneath the waistline of the kid’s pants. 

Honestly, with how tight Nero’s clothes on his lower half are, Dante’s surprised that he can fit his whole, much larger hand inside of it--but not as surprised as he is to find that one, Nero is not, in fact, wearing any underwear, and two, the kid’s already been prepared for him. Dante dares to reach down a little lower, his fingers brushing against Nero’s hole, still slick with what feels awfully like lube.

Nero jerks at the touch, his hips shifting slightly downwards into his hand, and Dante raises an eyebrow at him, his interest highly captured by Nero’s apparent oversensitivity, before they’d even done anything yet.

He has a sudden, vivid mental image of Nero in his desk chair, spreading himself open in anticipation for Dante, possibly fingering himself to one or two orgasms, even, given how easily the boy seems to react to even the slightest touch now.

The brat had been more impatient than he’d thought, and if Dante wasn’t fully hard already, he definitely was now.

“This is what you were doing for those two hours, then? Just couldn’t wait for me, could you?”

The boy blushes, glaring up at him through his long lashes, lowering his head until he’s nearly hiding his face in Dante’s shoulder.

“It’s your fault for taking so long, you know!”

“Oh yeah, I know.”

Dante takes his hand out of Nero’s pants and puts them back on Nero’s hips, lifting the kid out of his lap and bending him over the desk in one smooth motion, right over the space that Nero had so helpfully cleared for them. He reaches around and properly tugs the kid’s pants completely off with Nero’s help, leaving his lower half completely exposed.

“Sorry for making you wait. I’ll be sure to make up for it.”

Nero’s already done most of the work for him, much to Dante’s approval, so all that’s really left to do is undress a little further. He yanks at his suddenly constricting tie, the fabric slipping off with a slight rustle, and he discards it in the general direction where he’d thrown his suit jacket, reminding himself to retrieve it later. 

He takes a moment to pop open a couple of buttons on his shirt, but Nero is already whining impatiently grinding roughly up against him and eliciting another hiss from Dante as he grips the kid’s hips to keep him still.

“Do all old people move this slow, or is it just you?” Nero snaps impatiently at him, and Dante takes great delight in cutting his next sentence off by sinking two of his fingers properly into the boy’s already lubed-entrance.

Nero tightens around him instinctively, biting out his whimper into his arm, and Dante nearly groans at the feeling of the wet heat around his fingers, barely able to imagine what it’ll be like to actually get his dick properly inside of the kid. Despite already being loosened up for him by what the kid had been doing to himself earlier, Dante still encounters resistance as he works Nero open again, deliberately brushing his fingers against Nero’s prostate with every shallow thrust, not quite touching on it completely.

“Sorry, kid,” Dante chuckles around Nero’s muffled whines. “I’m old.”

Before Nero can take his head off with a sharp-tongued retort, Dante crooks his fingers at the perfect angle to finally hit Nero’s prostate, causing the boy to jerk underneath him with a loud moan.

The sound goes straight to Dante’s dick, and he honestly doesn’t think he’s going to be able to wait for very much longer. Nero seems confident in his own ability to take Dante, anyway, and if he goes slow, he probably won’t hurt the kid. 

With that in mind, he takes his fingers out of the boy, smirking at the whine Nero makes at the feeling of being empty. 

“Let me know if you need me to stop, yeah?” He warns, stroking light circles into the skin of Nero’s hip.

“I won’t need to--” 

Dante spits on his hand, runs it up the shaft of his cock, and pushes the head inside of Nero. Despite the extensive preparation Nero’s given himself, the boy is still impossibly tight, enough for Dante to actually feel dizzy as he leans over Nero and braces himself against the desk, rocking his hips shallowly forward to sink more of himself inside.

He can feel the way that Nero’s back arches underneath him from the strain of taking Dante inside of him, and the kid’s nails dig into the desk so harshly that Dante thinks he might actually leave marks. The kid doesn’t tell him to stop, though, so Dante presses onwards until he’s completely seated inside of Nero, trying to catch his breath as he rubs at Nero’s side reassuringly. 

“Shit--just relax, Nero. You’re doing good,” Dante feels the praise slip mindlessly past his lips as he kisses gently at the curve of Nero’s shoulder, hearing Nero’s shallow breaths underneath him.

“I...blame you,” Nero spits back at him, before roughly shoving his hips backwards in a motion that drives Dante even deeper inside of him, drawing a harsh grunt from Dante and a whine of not-quite pain from Nero.

Fucking brat.

“Not a good idea to take on more than you can handle.”

Dante chuckles lowly into the shell of Nero’s ear, taking in the way the boy shivers underneath him at the sensitive contact.

Nero tilts his head as best as he can, trying to glare at Dante, and Dante can see the way that the kid’s eyes prickle with unshed tears, the flush at the back of his neck creeping up his pale cheeks.

“I can handle you,” he says, the challenge clear in his eyes, which Dante takes as an indication to move.

He shifts backwards, and the hand that’s on Nero’s hip, large enough for his fingers to press against the boy’s stomach, feels a slight dip in the area with the movement. With mild interest, Dante reaches to feel properly at the kid’s abdomen, the tips of his fingers brushing over the literal bulge now in Nero’s stomach.

Holy shit.

Dante absolutely cannot lie to himself and say that that isn’t the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen--or felt, more like it--the proof of his and Nero’s difference in size laid out right in front of him.

“What are you staring at?” Nero mumbles breathlessly underneath him, his own hand coming down to where Dante’s is, pausing when he feels his stomach. He doesn’t quite say anything in response, but he does push himself a little bit backwards, whimpering out at the sensation as Dante’s cock protrudes a little further outward.

Nero turns his face back into his arms, his blush returning in full force.

“Please fuck me,” he orders, his voice muffled but the message clear nontheless. 

Dante, of course, has no choice but to obey, drawing himself backwards and slamming into Nero, managing to hit the boy’s prostate in the first try, if the way that Nero instantly tightens around him with a near wail, tensing up so hard that Dante’s afraid the kid might hurt himself. 

Generally, he’s a man who prides himself on his stamina, but he honestly doesn’t know how long he’ll end up lasting, not with the way that Nero whines and squirms underneath him, his body still so tight and hot around him. 

He leans properly over Nero, the muscles of his chest pressing against the kid’s back, one of his hands coming to gently cover the boy’s own.

“Nero--” he starts, only to be cut off when his phone rings.

He freezes in place, his hips stuttering in their motions, and he can see Nero twisting underneath him, to look at the phone through his teary eyes. It’s Vergil, probably wanting to check up on their progress, and Dante feels a smirk coming across his face as he reaches for the phone.

“Dante, don’t you  _ dare--!” _ Nero gasps out, his voice choking off in a moan as Dante shifts himself forward and answers the call.

“Hey, Verge,” Dante greets, his voice astonishingly steady, although a little breathless, as he starts to shallowly fuck into Nero, taking great delight in the way that Nero scrambles to cover his mouth, burying his face in his hands and trying to muffle his noises.

“Dante,” Vergil answers neutrally, apparently unsuspecting of anything at all. “Dare I inquire how far you’ve gotten in your paperwork?”

_ “Oh, _ I’m pretty far in.”

Dante thrusts a little more harshly into Nero to punctuate his statement, drawing a helpless whimper from the boy underneath him. He keeps his hand firmly on Nero’s hip, preventing him from moving away or grinding up into Dante himself, keeping more or less complete control of the situation.

“Would say about three-fourths of the way, yeah?”

“Alright. Good.”

His brother’s never been one for talking, which is alright, because Nero is so generously filling up the silence for them, unable to completely disguise his moans as Dante rolls his hips to press himself against the boy’s prostate.

“...is Nero with you?” Vergil asks, a note of extreme hesitance and suspicion in his voice, and Dante’s smirk widens.

“What do you think?” 

He speeds up his thrusts again and places the phone back on the desk to properly fuck into Nero, preening in satisfaction when Nero finally clenches up around him for a final time, coming across his stomach with a loud wail of Dante’s name. Dante fucks the kid through his orgasm until Nero’s moans turn into deliciously overstimulated whines and breathless little pants.

There’s a long silence on Vergil’s end of the phone, after this, followed by a very curt, clipped,

_ “Goodbye, _ Dante.”

Vergil hangs up almost immediately, probably off to die in his eternally-virgin hole, and Dante laughs out loud, rubbing Nero’s side affectionately, still fully hard inside of the boy.

“I can’t  _ believe  _ you!” Nero hisses out, embarrassment clear in his tone, and Dante presses another kiss to his shoulder before carefully pulling out, flipping Nero around to face him, propping him up on the desk, and entering the boy again.

Nero mewls at the sensation of the cock dragging against his oversensitive insides, but instinctively wraps his legs around Dante’s waist anyway, his hands clinging to Dante’s broad back as Nero buries his face in Dante’s shoulder. Dante fucks him slowly the rest of the way, chasing his own pleasure but wanting to be mindful of Nero’s overstimulation as well, his fingers digging into Nero’s waist and ass from where he’s practically holding the kid up.

Despite being very quickly overwhelmed, Nero puts in as best of an effort as he can, grinding his hips down to match Dante’s thrusts, and, combined with Nero’s adorable little whines, is enough to push Dante properly over the edge, finding his release inside of the boy and filling him up.

Nero whimpers at the sensation, his nails digging lines into Dante’s back, and Dante chuckles breathlessly, pulling gently out of Nero and moving them both backwards into the chair, with Nero on his lap again. 

“I’m sure Vergil won’t mind,” Dante answers, and receives a light, half-hearted smack to his shoulder in return. 

He probably deserves that.

“You’re an idiot. And also a pervert,” Nero mumbles against him, curling up against his chest and wincing at the feeling of Dante’s release leaking down his thighs. 

Dante reaches forward on his desk, plucking a couple of tissues from the box and starting to wipe up the mess. Some of his own cum is on his pants now, from where it’s dripping out of Nero and onto his leg, but he doesn’t mind much--he rarely ever does his laundry, anyway. Neither he nor Vergil know how to use the washing machine, so they’re in the habit of regularly buying new clothes whenever the current ones reach too dismal of a state to be sent to the public dry cleaners.

With that done, he tosses the tissues back onto his desk and wraps an arm lazily around Nero, rubbing gently at the kid’s lower back.

“Sure, but you love those things about me.”

He keeps his voice light and teasing, but he honestly doesn’t know how Nero feels. The kid could just think of him as a good fuck, a one-time thing that he’d just wanted to get out of his system. While Dante definitely understands that feeling, having relegated countless of other people to such a status in the past, he can’t help but admit that his heart twists more than a little painfully at the thought of his feelings being unrequited.

Nero makes an incoherent sort of groan into his shoulder, which isn’t an agreement, but isn’t exactly the denial that Dante had expected, either.

The boy is clearly falling asleep, the combination of the late night and their activities having tired him out, so Dante gently reaches up to pet at the kid’s soft hair before picking him up and carrying him over to the couch in his office, laying him gently down. Nero glances up at him through nearly closed eyes, unable to stifle his yawn, his cheeks flushing adorably at the action, and Dante allows himself to indulge in brushing the kid’s fluffy bangs away from his face.

Nero is too out of it to push him away or express his disgust for him, so Dante takes in the sight of this sleepy Nero for as long as he can, until Nero slowly lifts his head up and reaches for the bottom of Dante’s shirt, tugging at it with a sleepy whine.

“Don’t just  _ stand  _ there,” Nero mumbles out, his normal filter apparently destroyed by his fatigue. 

Nero flushes again, then pats the spot next to him on the couch gently, squishing himself further back into the cushions in an attempt to make room for Dante, who feels as if his chest is being squished as well, by a particularly warm and fluffy two-ton rabbit.

“Sorry, kid,” he tries to say, but Nero whines at him again, and Dante has no choice but to make himself comfortable, wrapping his arms around the kid when Nero rolls face first into his chest. 

The boy’s breathing quickly evens out as he nuzzles into Dante, his long, fluffy bangs fluttering gently outward with each of his soft breaths, and Dante lets himself relax for a moment, smiling tenderly down at Nero. He can’t let himself fall asleep with the kid, as comfortable as this whole cuddling setup is, though, because he still has a promise to keep, both to Nero and his to his brother. 

As best as he can without jolting the kid awake, Dante slowly extracts himself from Nero’s koala cuddle, petting the boy’s hair gently to soothe him when it seems like he might wake up. As an afterthought, Dante tugs his signature red coat off of the back of the chair and drapes it over Nero’s sleeping form, before turning to his desk with a quiet sigh.

Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll get to talk with Nero about perhaps pursuing something more in their relationship, or at the very least, having a repeat of tonight. Dante will happily procrastinate on as many years of paperwork as it takes to get to have the kid again.

He sits back in his chair, trying to keep his obligatory groan of complaint to a minimum as he reaches for the remainder of the papers on his desk, resting his cheek on one hand as he clicks open his pen.

He was in for a long night.

* * *

“Hello, Dante.”

Dante jerks immediately upright at the cold fury in his brother’s voice, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes as he looks around, squinting down at the half-completed document on his desk. He hadn’t quite managed to get through all of the paperwork, with one last remaining file left for him to do.

Vergil is standing in front of his desk, his arms crossed and his expression carefully blank, but the way that his eyes are narrowed, a fraction of an inch more than usual, gives away the fact that Dante is totally, utterly screwed.

Nero, surprisingly, is still asleep on the couch, curled happily underneath Dante’s coat, practically nuzzling it with the side of his face like a particularly happy baby kitten. It’s incredibly endearing, and Dante finds himself smiling dazedly at the sight before he remembers that he has one particularly murderous twin brother less than five feet away from his face.

“Uh...morning, Verge,” he laughs uneasily, paling by another shade when Vergil’s fists clench so tightly that a vein visibly bulges in the back of his hand.

“Okay, listen, I know I fucked up--”

“What an interesting sight I have encountered this morning, Dante, after our delightful phone conversation last night. I arrive at the office, only to see my personal assistant, half-naked and curled up on your couch, and you, still surrounded by the miserable debris of your own bookkeeping failures.”

Dante opens his mouth, then closes it again, nodding stiffly at his brother and putting his hands up in a placating sort of gesture.

“I know this looks bad, and you’re probably really pissed that I didn’t finish it all--”

“Actually, no. Your progress, while not complete, is certainly admirable.”

He blinks at Vergil, whose expression has not changed from his steely and fratricidal fury, so Dante knows that something is definitely still up. He just has to guess what it is, and there’s already a pretty long list of things to choose from in that area.

“Okay...so you’re pissed that I slept with your assistant?”

“Again, no. Perhaps this encounter will finally put an end to your ridiculous pining.”

“Hey, I don’t pine!” Dante protests, before he registers that Vergil had not only observed his feelings for Nero, but had actually been capable of comprehending and understanding them, as if he were an actual human being and not an emotionless sea sponge.

He goes through the events of the past day again, trying to dig up the source of Vergil’s displeasure, but finds himself coming up a little blank. If blowing off his work and fucking his personal assistant didn’t piss Vergil off, then Dante’s really not sure what is.

Vergil, apparently sensing Dante’s confusion, takes it upon himself to finally clarify, unfolding his arms and reaching into his pocket, extracting a very familiar looking notepad from within.

“You see, Dante, this morning, I went to my desk, as usual. However, upon making my customary check-up on my possessions, I noticed something...off. Imagine my surprise when, upon glancing at my prized notepad, I was greeted with not the smiling face of Alexa the tabby cat, but rather the devilish countenance of Lucifurr.”

Right. Dante had forgotten about that, actually.

“I tried to tell you,” mumbles Nero from the couch, a wince passing over his face as he pushes himself upright, wrapping Dante’s coat properly around him and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He yawns innocently, stretching his arms over his head, making the hem of his button-up shirt ride up in a way that makes Dante temporarily forget his imminent death.

“Good morning, Nero,” Vergil greets him, with considerably more warmth in his tone as he looks over the kid.

“We are just about to solve the mystery of where Alexa has gone--would you like to see?”

Nero shrugs his shoulders, rubbing at his eyes again and leaning back on the couch, sinking back into some sort of half-sleep.

“Wait, I didn’t do anything to your cat!” Dante starts, only for Vergil to reach over to the right side of his desk and snatch up the pink cartoon cat-printed paper, holding it up in front of Dante’s face between two of his fingers. 

Dante can see, on the pink material, the doodles of Vergil he’d made while he’d been procrastinating and, on the very bottom right, precariously close to the cartoon cat’s smiling head, a very prominent, semi-white stain.

_ Oh. _

“...so, uh. About all that paperwork that I didn’t finish--”

“You  _ defiled  _ a princess, Dante. Do you know that the punishment for striking a member of royalty is  _ death?” _

“Okay, one, I’m almost one hundred percent sure that not one word of any of that is true. And two...does it make it better if I say that technically, I did that  _ inside  _ of Nero, not directly  _ on  _ that thing?”

From the absolutely enraged look on Vergil’s face, as denoted by the slight, almost microscopic downturn of his lips, Dante would hazard a guess that his technical explanation did not, in fact, improve his situation in any way.

He glances at Nero again, but the kid is apparently asleep again, too unconscious to have heard Dante’s latest shameless statement. 

“You will face the consequences for your actions, Dante,” Vergil informs him, and Dante wilts in his chair, hoping to make himself invisible by some higher power. 

He frantically looks around for the fastest avenue of escape, but before he can actually make a break for it, Vergil lunges forward with superhuman speed and grabs his arm, hauling him out of his chair and starting to drag him towards the door.

“Woah, Vergil, wait!” Dante yelps, and the desperation in his tone is bad enough to give his brother pause, hesitating with one hand on the door and the other in a death grip around Dante.

“Let me say something to the kid?”

Vergil considers his request for a moment, then nods firmly.

Nero stirs back into awareness upon hearing Dante’s intent to address him, blinking at him owlishly with an expectant look on his face.

“You, uh...you want to go to dinner with me tonight? It won’t be pizza, I swear. At seven-thirty?” He asks, trying to ignore the frantic pounding of his heart against his ribcage as he waits anxiously for Nero’s response.

The boy looks him over with an appraising sort of expression, before running his hands through his sleep-tousled hair and turning back into the couch, flopping back down on his side.

“Six-thirty. And wear something nice.”

Dante can’t tell if the tingling feeling in his body and the dizzying rush of lightheadedness in his head is from the sheer happiness he feels or if it’s because Vergil’s grip on his arm is currently cutting off his blood circulation. 

Probably both. 

“Congratulations, Dante,” Vergil says quietly, a fond sort of smile crossing his face for a brief instant, and Dante dares to look nervously back at his brother, attempting to put on a charming sort of look.

“...does that mean that you’ll spare me from punishment?”

Vergil resumes pulling him out the door, ignoring Dante’s struggles and returning Nero’s sleepy little wave as he hauls Dante into the elevator.

“Foolishness,” his brother replies once he’s safely trapped Dante inside with him. “You have a date to prepare for, so you should stay at home today.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Yes, instead of toiling pointlessly away here, you will be atoning for your sins in my personal library, alphabetizing my books.”

“Wait, what? Vergil, all of your books are in  _ Japanese!” _

“Exactly.”

Vergil turns a cold eye onto him, the faintest hint of a smug smirk curling at his lips.

“You’ve always been a quick learner, Dante.”

“I hate you,” Dante mutters underneath his breath, a sentiment he seems to be expressing quite frequently in the recent days.

But even as they make their way down, heading towards many hours of Dante’s inevitable boredom and suffering, he can’t quite get rid of the warm, light feeling fluttering in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about Nero’s indirect agreement to his date. He imagines the sleepy smile the kid had sent his way, both on the night before and just now, and commits it quietly to memory, storing it away like a particularly treasured photograph.

“So, brother,” Dante starts, as Vergil drags him into the car, instructing their family driver to take them back to their residence.

“You know any good restaurants around here?”


End file.
